


Of Headpats and Fever Dreams

by Chikita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Awkwardness, First Crush, First Meeting, Humor, M/M, Manga Spoilers (Chapter 383), Pining Kageyama, Rarest of Rare Pairings, Sexual Tension, Socially Awkward Kageyama, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Chikita
Summary: Kageyama has the hots for his former role model, world-class ace and current teammate Nicolas Romero. This can only lead to suffering.
Relationships: Nicolas Romero/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 8
Kudos: 146





	Of Headpats and Fever Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> After the short twitter ficlet I wrote a few days ago (end notes), I now have the honor to write the first actual Nicoyama fic on this site, with all the pride of an obnoxious kid going "FIRST" in the youtube comment section. It usually takes me weeks to edit 2k so as you can guess, this is messy.
> 
> This will also be horribly non-canon after chapter 385 comes out.

  
  
Kageyama had always looked up to players older than him. 

There was Oikawa, scariest setter of the prefecture and his senpai in middle school. He was eventually replaced by Sugawara, vice-captain of Karasuno, the paragon of the perfect team player, always there to provide emotional support to his teammates and thus, excelling at the things Kageyama struggled with the most. Of course, he couldn't forget about Sakusa either, one of the top three aces in the nation back then. 

That wasn’t even counting all of the other setters he’d played with or against. Miya Atsumu, Kenma Kozume from Nekoma High, Shirabu and Semi from Shiratorizawa, Akaashi, or even that one boy he’d played with in his fourth year of elementary school.

All those players were people like him. They were flawed, often lacking in some technical area, and some of them had a horrible personality. But there was one player who was different, who he couldn’t help but admire for much longer than any of the others.

It felt like yesterday when he had been sitting in front of the tv in his parents’ living room to watch a volleyball match, eyes fixating every movement of each player on screen. World Cup matches were always flashy and exciting, and so different from the matches _he_ was used to playing.

Most of the time, he would focus on the setters, his main reasoning being that he was one himself. There was so much to learn from how they moved on the court, how they dominated and controlled the flow of the game. The setter's position was the coolest of them all. Yet, Kageyama hadn’t been able to pry his eyes away from one wing spiker, who’d seemed to be able to hit the ball from just about every angle. He hadn’t known who he was or where he came from, just that he was good enough to make his skin tingle and his heart beat a little faster whenever they showed a glimpse of him on screen.

Nicolas Romero, rookie player and future ace of the Brazil national volleyball team.

Memorizing names wasn’t one of his strong points, but with the tv announcer yelling Romero’s after a particularly neat spike, Kageyama had vowed to ingrain the name of this man into his consciousness until the end of time. 

\---

Times changed. People changed, and high school didn’t last for a lifetime. Never in life had Kageyama expected that one day, he’d be sharing the same court with the amazing spiker, whose matches he’d always looked forward to watching on tv. A national player, a living legend.

Ever since high school, Kageyama had gradually improved at socializing and not only adapting to new teammates, but also having the courage to speak his mind when he deemed it necessary. Schweiden Adlers, his new club, was no exception. He already knew Ushijima and Hoshiumi from their high school tournaments, and even if he hadn't, there was no reason for him to fear rejection by any of his fellow players. All those insecurities were a thing of the past. He was an adult now, not an awkward, confused teenager with a bad attitude and trust issues.

He had matured, both as a player and as a person.

How great was it then to see all of his conversation skills, knowledge of foreign languages and tact fly right out of the window the moment Nicolas Romero, _that_ Nicolas Romero, bumped into him in the hallway leading to the club’s locker room. Like him, he was dressed in a black tracksuit with the team’s logo printed on its front, sports bag over his shoulder. Kageyama’s brain must’ve short-circuited right then, but through the figurative smoke in his head, he faintly remembered the coach’s words about Romero’s absence due to a minor injury. Now he was back to the team and Kageyama was forced to interact with him like he would with any of his other teammates. That was what everyone expected him to do.

Well, _shit._

“You must be Tobio Kageyama. I’ve only heard good things about you and your old team. Karasuno, right?” The man, his idol and ace of the Brazil national team, reached out his hand in a friendly gesture. Kageyama was about to bow down to both accept the greeting and show his respect, but found himself too paralyzed to move. Instead, his eyes turned down to glance at Romero’s hand. It was huge, tanned on one side and slightly calloused. How many spikes must he have hit with that hand? How many points had he scored? How many-

“Kageyama!” His fantasies were disrupted by Hoshiumi elbowing him in the ribs with surprising force before he whispered to him in Japanese, “Just greet him like a normal person, geez. You’re staring at him like you want to bite his hand off.”

 _Right._ Greet him. He should probably just shake his hand and pass on the bowing as some foreigners found that awkward. And the last thing Kageyama wanted to come off to his idol was _awkward._ Slowly, he raised his own hand and drew it closer to Romero’s before stopping to rearrange his thoughts. Romero was Brazilian. What do they even speak in Brazil? Portuguese? He didn’t know a single word in that language. No, that wasn’t correct, Hinata had taught him a few cusswords and how to ask for the bathroom, but sadly, not something simple like _hello._

A light bulb went on in his head, blinking rapidly. Romero had greeted him in English. _English._ He needed to use English.

“Are you okay? Do I have something on my-”

“BONJOUR!”, Kageyama yelled as he grabbed Romero’s hand in a vice grip, shaking it violently before the confused expression of the other man made him realize, that maybe, just _maybe,_ this wasn’t the right word to use. Or the right language. _Fuck._ He yanked his hand back as if he had burned himself, straightening up and biting his lip hard enough for a jolt of pain to shoot through his jaw. When he glanced over at Hoshiumi, inwardly begging him for help, the other man had his face buried in his hands and wasn't even looking in his direction.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Tobio. Do you mind if I call you Tobio? I’m kinda used to calling our rookies by their first name,” Romero said with a smile nearly as warm as Kageyama’s cheeks felt, hands in his pockets as if said rookie hadn’t just made a complete fool out of himself. Kageyama shook his head, eyes casting downwards. Aside from that one incident in his last year of middle school, he'd never had an issue with people calling him by whatever name they preferred to use. In Romero’s case, he could’ve called him melon head for all he cared, it would still drive him crazy.

No, no, _quit that!_ Kageyama gulped and willed his pounding heart to be still. He had to calm down.

“Great,” Romero replied, blissfully unaware of the naughty, not at all volleyball-related thoughts Kageyama was having about him right at that moment. He strolled to the door, looking over his shoulder for a last time, sunny smile still intact, “The coach told me to take it easy with my recovery, but I’m seriously looking forward to hit some of your tosses.”

The door closed with a click, ending the conversation. Kageyama didn’t move from his spot, only blinked a few times to check if he was dreaming and the walls of the gym would soon morph into those of his bedroom. _No._ This was real life. Not only was he going to play volleyball with the player he had been admiring since he was a child, he had the honor to _toss to him._ Not just in practice, but in real league matches, too. He was living the wet dream of every setter in the world. The anticipation of setting up one of Romero’s powerful spikes made his heart leap and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a crooked smile.

He was lost in his happy little daze until Hoshiumi stepped in front of him, raising up on his tiptoes to put a hand on his forehead. It felt cool on his heated skin, making Kageyama’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Yep, thought so. You’re burning up like a kettle.” Hoshiumi said with a sigh and looked at him like a concerned parent, which was weird considering their height difference, “I can't believe I'm actually feeling sorry for you.”

\---

The embarrassment of that disastrous first meeting was one that continued to haunt Kageyama for the next few days, unlike all of the other dumb things he had done in his life. It was so bad, it sometimes kept him up at night when he had no trouble sleeping otherwise. 

Being on the same team with Nicolas Romero was both a blessing and a curse, Kageyama realized soon enough. Playing with him was fun and in a way, _exhilarating._ He managed to hit almost all of his, and the other setter’s tosses, even from positions where the others spikers would despair. He wasn’t as freakishly agile as Hinata, but he was _strong_ with a great game sense, which made up for all of his assumed flaws. People didn’t call him a world-class ace for nothing.

But as great as they got along on the court, Kageyama found it near impossible to get rid of that lingering awkwardness that poisoned a good deal of their social interactions. Weeks later, he still couldn’t talk to Romero in complete sentences, and whenever the man gave him a high five or a simple handshake, Kageyama felt like he was going to combust. It wasn't just a volleyball thing either. Aside from practice, every team activity was torturous.

Ushijima would often side-eye Kageyama, whenever the latter dissolved into a stuttering mess after Romero had said something vaguely nice to him. He never bothered explaining himself, only shrugged and went on with his day. It wasn’t like he could control the way his heart rate responded to the sight of Romero’s bright smile, or alternatively, how the sound of his deep, but melodic voice was enough to turn his knees into jelly and his brain into mush.

“Nice one, Tobio!”, Romero called out to him, thumb raised after he’d managed to score off on Kageyama’s toss in the last set of a practice match. When playing volleyball, Kageyama was able to focus on the essentials, but being praised by Romero still made his stomach do the flip every single time it happened. With a nervous huff, he mentally prepared himself for either a high five or a slap on the back, because that was Romero’s way of showing his appreciation.

“Thank you, sir! Your spike was-” Kageyama’s voice died in his throat when all of sudden, Romero’s hand made its way into his hair, tousling it as he laughed, loudly cheering about their victory.

“Cut it out, Nico! You’re treating him like a puppy!”, Hirugami, their captain, hollered at them from the other side of the net, with libero Heiwajima smirking at his side. Kageyama didn’t listen, only paid attention to the sensation of Romero’s long, thick fingers on his scalp, applying a firm, but gentle pressure. A shudder went down his spine, goosebumps tickling his arm, as he melted into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

Oh no. This actually felt _good. What the fuck?_

Just as he was thinking that, Romero pulled back, shot him a last grin and strolled off to the bench to get something to drink. Kageyama didn’t move from his position at the net, staring holes into the air even after everyone else had left the court, feelings of confusion and shame washing over him. Alright. Admiring a fellow volleyball player for his skills was one thing. Everyone did that. Wanting to be praised by said player and getting excited about it, okay. Still acceptable. But _this?_ Maybe this whole worshipping thing was getting a bit out of hand. _Literally._

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Hoshiumi told him on their way back to the locker room, voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and pity.

Kageyama’s face scrunched up into a frown, annoyance creeping back in. “I already told you I don’t have a fever. I'm good. I even checked my temperature this morning.” He had in fact done that, but there was no point to it when it was _Romero,_ whose presence always managed to heat him up from the inside. That was a kind of fever one couldn’t cure with a bunch of pills, chicken soup and a leg compress.

Hoshiumi let out a heavy sigh, using the back of his hand to wipe a few sweatdrops off his forehead. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Kageyama had a faint idea of what he meant, but the full awareness about the extent of his attraction to Romero was lost on him until he stepped into the shower that afternoon. He always used that time of the day to reflect on the more technical aspects of volleyball, but today he couldn't keep up a single coherent thought. The pictures in his head wouldn’t leave him alone. Pictures of tanned, smooth skin, a slim, but toned body, slightly messy hair, and his hands, his freaking _hands._ Kageyama was more than grateful for the shower cubicle allowing him some privacy.

In the end, the hot water pattering onto his skin would wash away all of his shame. Hoshiumi was right. Something very odd was going on with him.

\---

Kageyama never told anyone about his complicated feelings, figuring that since his problem was on a more personal level, there was nothing to do but wait until it solved itself. Needless to say, that didn't work out. Two weeks after his fateful encounter wie Romero, all hell broke loose on their first away match of the season.

The atmosphere on the bus ride back home was quiet, and more solemn than usual. Since the matches of the volleyball league were not only long, but physically and mentally draining, it wasn’t surprising to see most of the players nodding off within minutes. Kageyama was not an exception. In fact, he was usually the first to crash out seconds after dragging his feet into the vehicle, sometimes even struggling to keep awake long enough to change out of his uniform.

The other team had _destroyed_ them in the first set, blocking all of their spikes and cutting through their defenses like a knife through butter. For some reason, Adlers had managed to win the second set, but then the third set had switched back to being a disaster. At this point, everyone had been aware that if they lost the fourth set, the match would be over and they would have to give up their spot at the top of the table.

Now that he wasn’t standing on the court anymore, the last few seconds of that set continued to play through Kageyama’s mind like a broken record. The opposing wing spiker attacking, Heiwajima trying to receive the ball, messing up, barely getting it back in the air. Time had slowed down during that moment. Slow enough for Kageyama to dash to the far left side of the court, almost barreling over the referee, before tossing the ball over to the right where Romero was already running up to the net. The satisfying crack as the ball hit the floor on their opponents’ side had been music in his ears, just like the loud cheering from the ranks and sidelines.

The next thing he remembered was being surrounded by a crowd of men of varying ages, all of them wearing the same, black-and-white uniform. Some of them had slapped his back or other parts of his body, telling him how he had saved them with his last toss. The rest of the team had pretty much just screamed in his face because that's what they always did. But then there had been Romero, freaking _Romero._

Kageyama’s cheeks still burned with the memories of the man pulling him into a tight embrace, one hand patting his back while the other one had done the same with his head, ruffling his hair, and laughing all the way through. Enthusiastic celebrations like that weren’t exactly new to him after his time at Karasuno, but this? He couldn’t handle it. He _couldn’t_. The adrenaline from the match, the overstimulation of being hugged by someone he felt so strongly towards, the other players, everything had just been too much.

After being forced to sit out the following minutes with rolled-up tissues in his nose to stop the “unexpected” bleeding, Kageyama hadn’t managed a single toss like that in the fifth set. They’d lost that match, rendering all of their efforts in the prior set meaningless. It was only a matter of a few more points, but a loss was a loss. There was no reason to sugarcoat it, nor was there any reason for him to think, that it wasn’t his fault to some extent.

With a frustrated huff, Kageyama dug through his bag until he found his phone. He needed a distraction, something to keep himself busy during the bus ride before all the thinking about lost opportunities would end up frying his remaining brain cells. He didn’t have any games, and while he owned a social media account, he found using it more annoying than anything. After a few seconds of mindless scrolling, his thumb ended up hovering over the icon of the LINE app. He hesitated, before recalling the words of coach Ukai about the values of open communication.

Screw it, he just needed someone to talk to. This whole mess had been going on for way too long.

_**Tobio:** Hey. _/ His partner hadn’t replied yet, but Kageyama already regretted messaging him.

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Hey Yamayama! U still alive? Bokuto-san and Miya-san just invited me for noodles. Wanna see??_

Kageyama was about to type: “No, I don’t want to see your half-eaten food, ew!”, when the next thing that appeared in his chat was literally just that, a picture of a plate with a bunch of noodles, followed by another one showing Hinata sitting in some tacky “restaurant” with Bokuto and Miya on each of his sides. Bokuto had an arm slung around Hinata’s shoulders, and both were smiling into the camera. Miya, on the other hand, appeared to be dragged into the picture by Hinata. He wasn’t smiling, but there wasn’t much to smile about when you were about to spill red juice all over your white dress shirt.

_**Dumbass Hinata:** What abt u? I heard u had a match today. I bet u won, u guys r too good!_

He considered typing a long-winded analysis of said match, but telling Hinata how the other team had mopped the floor with them was an open invitation for stupid comments. It didn’t matter anymore. They were all aware of their flaws, and had to focus on their next challenge instead of dwelling on the loss. But the order of events had _also_ hammered home the fact, that Kageyama couldn’t keep ignoring what had proven to be a glaring issue.

_**Tobio:** No. I have a problem with one of my teammates. It’s getting worse each day and I need advice._

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Is he bullying you???_

_**Tobio:** No, he’s not. He’s nice and we get along well. We play well together, too._

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Oh, good to kno! I kno how bad u r at making friends lol_

Kageyama cursed under his breath. Here he was, pouring his heart out to Hinata, and the dumbass wasn’t even taking him seriously. Maybe he was drunk. That would at least explain his horrible spelling and all the bottles in the photo. Kageyama peered over to his left where Ushijima was leaning against the bus window, the upper half of his face obscured by a sleeping mask, shoulders heaving with slow, even breaths. No one else seemed to be awake either. With a grumble, Kageyama turned his attention back on his phone, the bright light of this screen already hurting his eyes.

_**Tobio:** I feel weird around him, okay? Like, I can't think straight or focus on anything, and I always want him to do stuff to me._

_**Dumbass Hinata:** O...kay, like what kinda stuff? Teach u his serve? U need 2 be more specific_

Now, that was something, Kageyama really didn’t need to think hard about. Without a second thought, he started typing, his eyes growing hazy with the mental images.

_**Tobio:** I want him to push me onto one of the mats in the storage closet and lie on top of me and then I want him to run his big hands through my hair and maybe pull at it a little and growl into my ear how good I was in the match bc it’s really fuckin hot when he-_

_***message was sent*** _

_Wait._

Kageyama’s heart must’ve stopped for at least a full second once he saw his messy, and very explicit thoughts written out on the screen right in front of his eyes, black font on a light grey background. He gasped, as soon as he had regained his breath, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as trembling fingers scrambled for the delete button.

_***message was deleted*** _

Luckily, he managed to do that without accidentally closing the app or dropping his phone.

_**Dumbass Hinata:** hEY!!1 What didya rite? A noodle fell on my screen rn so I didn’t see!!_

Kageyama breathed out another shaky sigh of relief, slumping back against the seat. Of course, the idiot was eating while he was texting him, what else would he do? Never in life had he thought a noodle of all things would end up saving his dignity. What the hell had he been _thinking?_ He needed to come up with something else, something that, while true, wouldn’t make him look like a hormonal mess in the process of getting through a second puberty.

_**Tobio:** I just kinda want him to hug me, let me put my head on his shoulder on the bus. And maybe hold my hand or some shit. Only if he’s okay with it, of course.  
_

Needless to say, he really wanted all of those things, too. Just spending some time together with him, preferably alone, without any of their teammates. There was something inside of him that yearned for the pure affection of that man. He wanted to be scooped up in his arms, their chests touching as they hugged while he buried his face in the crook of Romero’s neck. He wanted him to touch his head, his fingertips trailing down his hairline to his neck, his lips drawing closer and closer to his ear, whispering praises and sweet nothings.

He wanted _all of that._

_**Dumbass Hinata:** That sounds cute actually?? Like woah! I didn’t know u had a soft side_

At this point, Kageyama was seconds away from yeeting his phone across the bus, but that would only get him in trouble with the driver, not to mention wake up everyone from their peaceful slumber. He couldn’t do that to his team. Not after his lacking performance in that last set.

_**Tobio:** Are you making fun of me?_

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Nonono, I was jus surprised!! Bokuto-san and Miya-san said it’s cute, too!_

_**Tobio:** Dumbass, why do you let them read your texts?? Who does that?? Have you never heard of privacy?_

_**Dumbass Hinata:** We’re eating at the same table and u never said this convo was secret uwu_

Kageyama gripped his phone so hard, the knuckles of his hand turned white, gritting his teeth and squinting against the bright light of the screen. He couldn’t lose his temper and throw a fit in the middle of the bus just because Hinata was being an idiot. His teammates needed to stay asleep, if just so they wouldn’t question the look on his face. He couldn’t see it for himself, but feeling like his skin was melting off probably came with an unhealthy color.

_**Tobio:** Don’t fucking “uwu” me! What does that even mean?? I’m suffering here and you’re not helping!_

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Dude, u have like the biggest fuckn crush, u should totally bang him :D LOL _

_**Dumbass Hinata:** That was Bokuto-san btw_

Kageyama’s heart dropped into his stomach, lip quivering both in anger and distress. So that was his life now. He had a crush on Nicolas Romero, national player of a foreign country and living legend on top of it. A thirty-something who probably had a wife and kids, and most likely didn’t harbor any non-platonic feelings for him. He had a crush on someone, who was not only galaxies out of his league, but a player, a _teammate,_ he had to work with on a daily basis.

He couldn’t just fall for the guy next door or the nice woman from the grocery store, who always smiled at him when she scanned his milk boxes. No, he _had_ to fall head over heels for one of the best aces of the world, and not just a little bit, but so freaking hard, that a wink from him was enough to shut off his rational thinking.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

_**Tobio:** So what am I gonna do now? Switch teams? Move to a different country? Die?_

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Don't die, pls! That's not gonna help. _ _Maybe ask someone with more experience?_

_**Dumbass Hinata:** Hey, I know Oikawa-san knows a few things about dating. Maybe call him? I could give u his number?_

Oh no, he was _not_ going to call Oikawa. It was bad enough that now instead of one, three more people knew about this hopeless “crush” of his. He was definitely not going to bring it up to his former high school rival. If he ended up posting about it on that stupid bird app he seemed to use daily, the whole volleyball world would be talking about it the next day, and Kageyama could dig his own grave. That meant no match against Hinata’s team, no winning the V-league and no Olympia either.

Kageyama was, once again, lost in his own world of despair, when a gentle nudge on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He put his phone away, not in the mood to type another answer, and crooked his head to face Ushijima. He wasn’t wearing his mask anymore, but his legs were still covered by a thick fleece blanket, eyes small from sleep, “You look pale. Are you not feeling well? I have a plastic bag if you need to throw up,” he offered in his usual, monotone voice. Kageyama shook his head, the motion making him dizzy, so he closed his eyes, actually feeling a bit of motion sickness creep in as the bus swerved around a corner.

“I’m fine, Ushijima-san,” he said, his voice audibly cracking, “I think I just have a fever.”

\---

When Kageyama went home that evening, the sky outside was pitch black, the icy wind biting at his heated skin and making him shiver all over. Ushijima had walked with him for a few more minutes, carrying on a rather one-sided conversation about the most effective home remedies against fever, sore throats, rabies and other types of deadly diseases. Kageyama barely listened, but still appreciated his teammate’s concern about his health. If only there was a cure for lovesickness.

He stepped over the threshold of his small apartment, barely managing to toe off his shoes, the lack of sleep from the bus ride catching up to him in an instant. With the last bit of his strength, he took off his jacket and sweatpants, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. He threw both items over the back of a chair in his bedroom before lowering himself onto the cushion of his futon. The light of the full moon seeped in from his window, but Kageyama didn’t feel like getting up to close the blinds. Playing five sets in every single match instead of three was still new to him, and his muscles ached in protest, making him feel sore all over. His mind, however, was still alive, so he went back to thinking.

Before joining his new team, Kageyama had never understood why people were so prone to losing their minds over romantic interests. When Tanaka, Nishinoya, and basically half of his high school's population had been drooling over Kiyoko-san, Kageyama’s entire focus had been on volleyball and _only_ volleyball. Now, he had to admit, that he wasn’t so above it all, even if he couldn't fully understand why he was feeling that way. Maybe moving to a different country would be the easiest solution. Or maybe a different planet. Or maybe he just really needed some fucking _sleep._

He was about to nod off and enter the land of dreams when next to his futon, a buzzing noise echoed through the air. It came from out of his sports bag, stirring him awake in no time.

“Shut up, Hinata! I'm tired!”, Kageyama yelled into the empty room, grabbed one of his many pillows and flung it in the general direction of the bag. The situation held something strangely nostalgic, that reminded Kageyama of training camps in school, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Instead, it grew more obnoxious with every passing second, grating on his nerves.

After trying, but failing to force himself to ignore the noise, Kageyama heaved himself up with a groan and crawled over to his bag. When he picked up his phone to shut it off, he was promptly greeted by over 80 notifications, most of them, who would've thought, unread LINE messages from Hinata. With a yawn, he absentmindedly skimmed through the texts, a mixture of gibberish and random pictures of food and fluffy animals, many of them duplicates. Whoever was responsible for serving Hinata alcohol should be thrown in jail.

But then, after he was finished marking all of Hinata’s mostly nonsensical messages as _read,_ there was another one he hadn't seen yet.

"Unknown number", the app told him, and the implication sent a shiver down Kageyama's spine. The only people he gave his number to were family members, friends, and some of his former or current teammates he was close with. One of them must’ve shared his number in some kind of group chat and now he was getting messages from shady people. It was probably smarter to just ignore and block them. That’s what his common sense told him to do, but in the end, curiosity won over, forcing him to open it. He had no idea what to expect, but he wasn’t a coward. Really, how bad could it be?

_**Unknown Number:** Hey, Tobio. I know you’re probably sleeping already, but I just remembered this new curry restaurant in my street. Korai told me you’re crazy for that stuff. _

Hoshiumi? Kageyama raised his eyebrows. So _he_ was the one who had given that person his number? But why? Who was behind the message?

Kageyama’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the icon in the upper left corner of the screen, his pulse shooting up in a matter of seconds. All the puzzle pieces clicked together, forming a picture that he swore was nothing but wishful thinking, nothing but a delusion born out of a sleep-deprived mind. But what if it wasn’t? Before the anticipation could suffocate him from the inside, he scrolled further down, his free hand restlessly tapping the inside of his thigh.

_**Unknown Number:** We don’t have anything to celebrate, but I don’t think you need a reason to take your kohai out for dinner. If you’re interested, hit me up after practice tomorrow. If not, that’s fine, too :) _

_-Nicolas_

Attached to the message was a picture of said restaurant, slightly blurry, but the details didn’t matter. Kageyama stared at the screen until it faded to black, the phone slipping out of his hands. Nicolas Romero was inviting him, Kageyama Tobio, to go eat curry together. Just the two of them. Without their teammates. It sounded too good to be true.

 _No,_ this had to be a dream. He was officially losing his mind, or maybe someone was playing a prank on him, though the former seemed more likely in his current state. With a massive headache starting to form in his temple, he scooted back to his futon. There, he rolled onto his stomach, pulled the blanket over his head, and clenched his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see anything but darkness. Tomorrow would be a better day.

He just needed to rest.

\---

“You owe me something, Tobio-kun.”

Kageyama looked up from where he was sitting on the gym floor after practice, legs spread out in a stretching position. A few feet across, Hoshiumi was doing the same, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Kageyama tilted his head and waited for an explanation that wouldn't confuse the hell out of him. His tosses hadn’t been bad that morning, despite him having slept no more than three hours.

Hoshiumi's smile grew even wider before he was bending down, curving his back to reach for one of his ankles with both hands. ”That was a joke. I'm happy for you. Just don't fuck it up, okay?”

“I don’t know what you mean, so I can't make any promises,” Kageyama replied, earning roaring laughter from Hoshiumi that made a few heads turn. Ushijima raised an eyebrow at them, but other than that, his face held no expression, only his trademark blank stare.

Since Kageyama was more or less finished with his routine, he decided to watch those who were still in the middle of their stretches. The mere concept of crushes was an enigma. Without a doubt, all the players on his team were good. So how was it possible to be so obsessed, so _smitten_ with only one of them? What was the point? What was the point of there being a person, who could take his breath away, mess up his head with a single touch, and completely turn off his ability to function, eat, sleep, and most importantly, play volleyball? How stupid was it to have someone take up so much space in his mind?

He was pondering over all of those questions while he and the other rookies cleaned up the gym, and on the way to and inside the locker room. When he emerged from the shower after spending way too much time under the scorching hot water, the changing area was quiet and almost empty, most of his teammates already gone. Only Hoshiumi stood at the door, fully dressed in jeans and a hoodie, the latter looking a few sizes too big on him. When their eyes met, Hoshiumi shot him a thumbs up and a cheeky grin, before leaving the room as well. Kageyama didn't even have time to wave goodbye.

A slam of the door, and he was alone with his thoughts. _Again._

“Tobio? Are you finished showering?”

_Or not._

Kageyama jumped and turned on his heel, coming face to face with no one but Nicolas Romero. His heart picked up his pace at the sight of his crush, as the man looked at him, fondness sparkling in his eyes. His hands were buried in the pockets of his black coat, a plaid scarf draped around his neck, that looked fancier and more expensive than any piece of clothing Kageyama owned.

It was then that it dawned on him, the rusty gears in his head turning. Dinner. _Today._ With Romero-senpai. _Wait,_ it hadn’t been just a dream?

Almost instinctively, Kageyama looked down at _himself_ and the fluffy towel sitting on his hips. His face scrunched up on in horror. It wasn't like he cared all that much about his appearance, but right now he was, quite literally, underdressed. To make matters worse, said towel was one of the stupid ones with the puppy print, Hinata had left him as a “gift” after high school. Romero just kept smiling at him as if it was nothing. “I’m waiting for you at the door if you still want to go to the restaurant. I bet you’re hungry after that last match,” he said with a tiny wink as he bent down to pick up the bag with his belongings. Kageyama lightened up at his words, mouth watering. He was always starving after practice.

“Oui! I mean, yes!” Kageyama bowed out of habit, fingers grasping the towel around his hips so it wouldn’t slip off, “Thank you for the invitation, Romero, sir!” Was he only imagining things, or did he start to get accustomed to the heat in his cheeks? Maybe it just felt like it, because a few minutes ago, he had burned the rest of his skin under the shower. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, Tobio. We’re teammates.” Romero laughed as he reached out to ruffle his still dripping hair, “And please call me Nico. Sir makes me feel like an old man.”

“Nico,” Kageyama whispered to himself as he raised up from his slightly hunched-over position, looking his crush in the eye. The name rolled off his tongue with ease, and he nodded, stomach fluttering with both confusion and pure, intense _joy._ At last, his hopeless crush wasn't all that hopeless.

Kageyama hurried to get dressed, doing his best to not make Romero, _Nico,_ wait longer than he already had to. His heart was hammering against his ribs, like a volleyball being repeatedly slammed onto a hard wood floor, in the same steady and comforting rhythm. It still felt surreal, not like something that could actually happen, but if Hinata could go on random dinner dates with Fukurodani’s ace and Inarizaki’s setter, was it really so weird for him to do the same? After all, refusing an offer like _that_ from a senpai would just be plain rude.

It wasn’t until the two of them were sitting in a corner of the restaurant, close enough for their shoulders to touch, that Kageyama realized how lucky he was. He was playing volleyball in a professional league, just like he had always wanted to. He was part of a team with a long history of victories, with teammates he valued and friends he cherished. And now, one of the best players in the world was taking him out for dinner.

“I win,” Kageyama thought to himself, smiling through a mouth full of curry as he imagined Hinata’s reaction, “I win this time, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> said Twitter ficlet: https://twitter.com/Chikita84478658/status/1231312547464253441
> 
> This is an invitation for you all to write more Nicoyama and do it better than me.


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